


The amazing adventures of one Fenrir Wolf

by AkkiTheWolf



Series: Star-drops [13]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Growth, F/M, Fenrir needs a hug, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hel is cold, Hurt/Comfort, Kind Brunnhilde, Midgard is weird yall, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Thor Needs a Hug, author has no idea what she´s doing, finding yourself, grumpy hippie Thor, sandy and very boring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkkiTheWolf/pseuds/AkkiTheWolf
Summary: What happens when the cycle is broken, the chains fall free and Fenrir can finally walk the path not chosen by anyone else?A change the universe has not seen before.
Series: Star-drops [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514813
Kudos: 3





	The amazing adventures of one Fenrir Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Because Fenrir is my darling wolf and deserves all the hugs.  
> This is not finished, but I deemed this part well-rounded enough to post it on its own.  
> No idea when or if I will continue, lets say I had many ideas for Fenrir´s adventures. Among them fixing the damn karking ending of the Endgame (cause I reject it!!!) and meeting and getting confused by the adorable Spidey.  
> We will see. Or not.
> 
> Stay safe lovelies.  
> Akki out.

There was never a need to change.

Hela was a simple master if not a kind one. Where would she learn kindness, when all she ever knew was the war. This was before Odin took Frigga as wife, before he himself learned the gentler ways. And after, well, when you are dead there is not much to change. Hel was cold, vast and so… quiet. One direction was as good as any, you never really ended up anywhere. Just frozen sand, not even snow, but sand. Coarse and brittle, the never ending shore. If you managed to get to the end, there would be a boat that would take you to Valhalla. But,... it never ended. The poor damned souls kept walking, hoping, believing, that somehow, somewhere there must be an end to the boundless shore, to the whipping undying winds. Ironic really, that in the land of the dead the only thing seeming to possess life was the biting wind, stealing what undead breath you had left and wheezing, and howling in laughter at your never ending strife.

Fenrir huffed mirthlessly. A plume of moist air stolen just moments after it left the wolf´s great snout. Nothing really changes in Hel. You walk and you watch the horizon. It was decades, maybe centuries, since the wolf met another soul. Just vast, grey nothingness. One un-ending cycle after another. Fenrir didn´t hate their previous master. She just followed her path, like many others before her. The wolf hated to never be given a choice. Whether to follow Hella to death or chance a different fate. Fenrir was never given a choice, not in a single cycle, such was the fate the Norns weaved for them.

The change came barreling in, green and scorching, burning their soul, binding the wolf in repulsive magic. Fenrir again didn´t get a choice.

…

The chains broke once the Asgard´s horizon flew over their head. The universe was cold, but at least there was no biting wind.

…

The Earth doesn't take kindly to large wolf-creatures barging into their towns. So, Fenrir took this as a necessary camouflage. The tiny young woman with fair skin and unruly hair - visage - was entirely intentional. How could Fenrir know the humanity underwent such drastic changes in the last few milenias? They were all tiny the last time the wolf visited Midgard. The girl growled silently under her nose, watching the town near the shore with careful eyes. If they refuse her, she will truly have nowhere to go. And what is a harbinger without its purpose, a fulfilled prophecy, a dot behind the last sentence in a book of life. Not even that, the destiny got derailed, the cycle broken. New paths bloomed under Fenrir´s feet. The wolf suddenly didn´t know which direction to start walking in. Going to her roots, to the people she served for so long was the only clear way which she could see. Was it the right choice? Only the Norns knew. 

But it was her choice. 

She started walking, downhill towards the sleepy town.

…

“Stupid.” Fenrir huffed under her breath, spitting blood from a broken lip, not sure if she meant the thunderer or herself. Probably both. She leaned her back against the wall of one of the houses on the edge of town, quietly enjoying the god of thunder being berated by a Valkyrie half his size. A sudden realization struck, warmth, for so long a forgotten feeling, started blooming inside her. It wasn't quiet anymore. The sharp, rough voices of the arguing pair were the primary layer in the melody of life Fenrir haven´t heard in ages.

“I…” the hesitant, too quiet word made the Asgardians pause. Both watching the wolf with confused, wary expressions. Fenrir blinked the sudden, stinging wetness from her eyes. What was happening to her?

“I do not wish to fight anymore.” The Valkyrie´s stance lost some of its rigidness, but the thunderer was still regarding her with suspicion.

“I...want to stay here.” Fenrir still felt the tingling lightning left when it scoured through her veins. If the thunderer decided she was unwelcome, she would run. Even running and hiding on Midgard alone was better than roaming Hel for eternity. 

“You can stay.” The Valkyrie said after a few tense moments, her face neutral, but something softer blanketed her words. Kindness. The wolf realized, the Valkyrie was offering kindness.

“No, I don't think s-so…” the thunderer didn´t finish his sentence, the female warrior whacked him in his chest, making him sputter for breath.

“But there will be conditions.” She stepped closer, reaching out a hand. The wolf took it and with slight annoyance learned, that she was smaller than the warrior. The hand holding hers squeezed slightly and Fenrir realized an answer was expected of her.

“I understand.” The Valkyrie smiled, lupine and wild, behind her the thunderer groused, not happy with this kind of outcome.

…

As it turned out the conditions were simple. Do NOT eat people! Or anything that walks on two legs, looks vaguely humanoid and is capable of operating a phone or a TV (Fenrir had yet to understand the appeal of both). This had to be specified after the unfortunate incident with one of the many non-Midgardian creatures roaming the Asgardian refugee camp. Also some humans, as the Midgardians like to call themselves, looked anything but their fellow primate-originating creatures. More like shuffling blobs of toxic waste. Her delicate nose wrinkled at the sharp chemical scent the inhabitants emanated. Fenrir was astonished many times during the first weeks at her new home.

It started creeping on her, slowly, gently, like a growing wine. Encasing, cradling, supporting, but never binding, never locking into chains. This feeling of belonging grew with each day, when a child smiled without fear at her the first time. When the neighbouring old lady baked a pie and shared with her. When the young Asgardian couple took her under their wing, without Fenrir even noticing. When she made them laugh with her clumsy understanding (more like not understanding) of the Midgardian culture. When she was given her first job, cleaning the smelly fish, the fisherman's wife offering kind advice and warm tea. When the thunderer stopped glowering every time he saw her, sharing a bitter beer one chilly evening just after the rain tapered off and sea was rolling under their feet, the dock illuminated by soft, yellow light from the local bar. 

Fenrir found home where she least expected it. In the midst of people she helped hurt, in the midst of people that helped her find her path again. 

…

The last condition was the hardest to meet. She was NOT to shift into her true form. At first it didn´t pose any hardship, but after time… 

It started as an itch under her skin, it was barely two lunar cycles since she joined the community. Not long after the itch turned into a dull pain, as if your joints were locked into place for too long. Fenrir thought this was manageable, the pain was worth it. And then it started to really hurt. She went through her day, quiet and short with anyone that tried to engage her in a conversation. She held on for two more days and then she couldn't. The wolf stumbled her way out of the town early at dusk, unseen, panting, bitten whines falling from quivering lips. Once the forest swallowed her staggering silhouette, she let go. With a sharp cry the change rolled, rippled through her skin. It came violently and without control, the trees groaned and cracked when making space for the giant body. Fenrir felt exactly as her surroundings looked, wrecked. She let the last vestiges of pain ebb away, carefully standing on coltish legs. The wolf stretched her limbs, the powerful line of her back and dug wicked claws into the supple dirth. She felt free and terrified. The change back was hard, she didn´t want to go back to the small, fragile and constrained body. But it was still better than Hel.

She laid on her side, gasping for breath, shivering. Her clothes, she noted mournfully, did not survive her shift. A sharp tingle ran over her skin. Fenrir inhaled in fright, lifting herself on weak arms. The thunderer stood few paces in front of her, expression thoughtful. He started towards her and the wolf lowered her gaze in shame and submission. Soft jacket was lowered over her form. She whipped her head up in surprise, nostrils flaring to glean something from the scent. But he only smelled of storm and stale beer.

“Next time, go deeper.” He rumbled, turning around and left.

…

She heard, of the Scattering, of the day ashes blew softly in the wind and half the universe was erased from existence. She didn´t really know anyone before. There was only her master...and the cycle. But now that the shackles of both are no longer on her, she was free to experience and meet new people, new situations. And with them their grief and anger, and fruitless frustration at the unfair world. Fenrir learned she didn´t like grief, it made everything appear heavy, painful, unfinished. 

The Valkyrie sometimes seemed to carry the weight of the universe on her shoulders, despite her being half his size, she handled it better than the thunder god himself. He was slipping away, instead of mighty Thor, she more often than not met the easy-go-lucky hippie-clown (not her words, she was still confused by the hippie part). She was not sure what to think, feel or do about it. Perhaps doing nothing was the best thing. Everyone dealt with their grief differently, she learned. The fisherman's wife, Helena, baked tiny hazelnut cakes. She cried over them when they were done and then gave them away. Fenrir could always taste traces of salt in them. Everyone in town, in the world, lost someone. Fenrir tried to remember when was the last time she lost someone she cared about. Never? There had to be someone.

She sat on the beach, a roaring bonfire warming her back. The people weren't always sad and that was a good thing about grief. In time it let you heal, slowly, memory by memory you started to remember the good things and what stays is a bittersweet ache that forever reminds you there was a person you loved and still love. Perhaps it is all worth it. The love, sorrow, the meetings and goodbyes. The sea was rolling gently, the moon rocked by its waves on the distant horizon. It didn´t scare her anymore. She knew where to go if she ever got lost.

**Author's Note:**

> I took a creative liberty with the Norse mythology and mythology of Marvel universe. Because I could and wanted to give Fenrir some personality apart from the rabid zombie dog we were shown.  
> In this universe Loki is not Fenrir´s father, but I gave them/her the shape-shifting ability, so they/she could better fit into the Midgardian climate. So to speak.  
> The shifting pronouns are deliberate. Fenrir as a wolf doesn´t see themselves as any gender, they are a magical entity, they don´t really need a gender. Fenrir as a human took a form of female, thus she/her pronouns.


End file.
